Wanna Pickle?

I was making a grocery store run, minding my own business when I suddenly heard someone call my name. I looked in the general direction of the sound and saw a previous neighbor flapping her arms like a pair of skinny chicken wings. She was pushing a cart with a tiny person in the baby seat. It was Jessica. She and her dope slinging boyfriend had lived across the street from us a couple of years ago. They regularly entertained the neighborhood with loud, screaming, frothing at the mouth, meth fueled throw downs in the front yard. She may be a tiny little thing, but she was insane, and everyone knows that crazy trumps strength any day of the week. And now she wants to reminisce.  Great. I made eye contact so I have to go over. For additional clarity I will type the actual conversation in regular type and my thoughts in italics.

“Hey Molly! Do you remember me?”

“Of course. It’s good to see you. Cute kid. Is this a new one?”

“Yeah, she’s only 8 months. My other baby is walking and talking now. Can you believe that?” Well, yeah it’s been like two years, so unless she’s retarded, babies tend to do that. Or is she already on the pipe?

“Wow. Already, huh? Well it was nice seeing you.” Walk away slowly.

“This baby’s name is Hannah Lee. All one word.” Son of a… “I thought that was so cute when I thought of it. Don’t you love that name?”

“It sounds like a perfect place for Puff to frolic in the autumn mist.”

She tilts her head to the side and twists her face into what I assume it confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“Nevermind. It’s just an old song you’ve probably never heard. Nice seeing you.”

“Yeah, I really liked the name. Except we spell it J-A-N-N-I-L-E-I-G-H. You know like the Spanish people say jalapeno? Isn’t that clever?” Seriously? Good lord. Her ‘I’m bored’ detector has been seriously compromised. Be nice…Molly! Damnit!

“Well are you going to go around introducing her by saying her name then spelling it for the rest of her life?”

“Uh…no?”

“Then who gives a crap how it’s spelled? All you’ve done is guarantee that her name will never be pronounced or spelled correctly on the first try. “

“Well, maybe you don’t get it.” Ahh. A crack. She starting to sound annoyed. Maybe I can make a break for it. Must soldier on.

“Maybe not. And while I’m sure that Spanish people have uttered the word ‘jalapeno’ I’m pretty sure you mean Mexican. They speak Spanish, but they’re Mexican.”

“It just seems mean to call them Mexicans.”

“You do understand that they’re from Mexico, right?” I back away slowly.

“I guess. Hey! Before you go, Hannah Lee (I know, but I refuse to spell it that way, it’s stupid.) has been doing this really adorable thing lately. I asked her if she wanted a pickle the other day and she scrunched up her face all cute. Now she does it all the time. Watch. “Hannah Lee, you wanna pickle? You wanna pick-le? Hannah Lee, you wanna pickle? I swear she does it. Hannah Lee? Wanna Pickle? Pick-le? I swear she does this scrunchy thing with her face it’s so funny. Hannah lee? Pick-le?” The baby is just looking at her with the same expression on her face that I likely have on mine. Poor kid. If she’d known what she was in for she’d probably have tied a noose in that umbilical cord.

“Uh…it’s ok. I don’t think she’s feeling it.”

“But it’s so cute. Hannah Lee? You wanna pick-le?”

“Christ! She’s a baby not a damned German Shepard. She doesn’t want to do tricks.” I back further away. I’m really at the end of my “nice” rope.

“I guess not. She’s started dancing too. Wanna see her dance?” That’s it. I’ve had enough.

“Uh, no. Not really. I’ll see you later. “ I can hear hear voice trailing behind me as I walk away.